Here - Chapter 20

Luke winces and closes his eyes when he hears the scraping sound of his precious gears.

She is getting a little better, he tells himself with a grimace, at least she's not hitting the clutch on uphill slopes anymore.

"Easy, easy..." Luke tells her in a soft, anxious tone, bracing himself for the jerking motion with a hand on the dashboard.

"I got it. Just relax," she insists edgily.

"Relax??" He knows he would laugh if he weren't so tense.

The car in her driver's education class is an automatic, but Carly figures that she had better learn how to drive a stick. The cheap cars she'd seen advertised in the newspaper were stick shifts. Thus, her presence in Luke's prized car, a terrified Luke by her side.

Once they are past the many stop signs and red lights in the immediate vicinity of the club, she is able to ease up a little bit and (sort of) enjoy the drive.

The first time she'd sat behind the wheel, her heart had pounded against her chest, her breath had caught in her throat, she'd had visions of impending crashes and death in her mind. She'd had a full-blown panic attack, an attack that, at some other point in her life, would have sent her screaming from the vehicle.

But, because of her desperate circumstances, she'd managed to swallow hard, push the panic aside, and breathe through it.

She had to learn to drive. She had no choice in the matter anymore.

Back in the present, she relaxes her shoulders and sighs back into the driver's seat. Keeping her eyes glued to the road, she says to Luke, "So, how was that??"

He is able to exhale now, although his hand is still rooted to the dashboard just in case, and he replies with a short shrug, "We survived and you didn't hit anything. I guess that's all right."

She nods, "I'm still having trouble with those sudden stops though..."

He rolls his eyes and, exasperated, finally says, "Just throw it into neutral. Let's leave the downshifting till later."

Carly blinks. He'd yelled at her the first few times she'd panicked and done that. Now he was advising her to do it?? "You sure?" she manages to sneak a peek at him, her hands squeezing the oversize steering wheel.

He nods and puts an unlit cigar between his teeth. With a resigned sigh, he says gruffly, "Yeah, I'm sure."

After a few moments of silence, she clears her throat and squeaks a reluctant, "Thanks for doing this."

He growls, "Well, you're not welcome." He slides his eyes to her and spins the cigar in his mouth, "You realize that the only reason I've got my butt in this car with you is to keep my butt out of a possible jail cell...?"

She frowns at his reaction, then repeats, "Yeah, well, thanks anyway."

He responds with a grunt. Then he settles back into his seat, surprised at how smooth the ride is at the moment.

He lets out a breath, finally feeling safe enough to let go of the dashboard.

*********

"So," Sonny asks, closing the door behind her, "what have you been doing with yourself?"

Carly sighs, tiredly sinking into the familiar couch, "Not much..."

They have not seen each other - at least not in person - for almost two weeks. When he opened the door for her, Carly was surprised to find that she'd missed his dismissive attitude, smart-mouthed cracks...and his deep brown eyes.

Sonny notices that her hair seems longer, maybe a bit blonder. Her eyes seem more sure of herself. With her hair swept up in a ponytail, he even notices that she has a new pimple on the side of her throat that wasn't there before.

She turns to look at him curiously, "What about you?"

He is standing next to the sofa, a hand casually in his pocket, jingling what she assumes are keys. He smiles a small smile at her and tilts his head, "A little of this. A little of that."

She raises a brow and says sarcastically, "Hmmm...sounds exciting."

"Oh yeah!" he says brightly, his smile widening as scratches behind his ear with a finger. "You know me: Mr. Excitement."

She stifles a grin and looks him up and down. She wants to ask him why he has not contacted her for so long, but refrains. She decides it does not really matter. He called her tonight.

And here she is. Why??? she scolds herself. He doesn't care about me. He wants to get laid and I show up and open my legs... The more she thinks about the situation between them, the angrier she gets. And she has no idea why it suddenly bothers her.

She has no idea that the very fact that the relationship between them has made a subtle shift is what is frightening her. She has no 'plan' for dealing with something she has just let happen without manipulation.

She stands up and walks over to him purposefully, her face hardened, "You want to get to it?"

He laughs a bit nervously, not sure what has happened to cause her change in attitude, "Get to it?"

Toying with his shirt collar, she nods, "Yeah."

"I don't know," he backs away, "I thought maybe we could have something to eat." He nods toward the kitchen, "I have some tira misu..."

She takes another step, closing the distance he'd established, sensing that she is making him increasingly uncomfortable. She is enjoying pushing him. It gives her an odd sense of security to anger him. His disdain is much more familiar to her than his courtesy. She remarks coldly, "I'm not hungry."

He clears his throat and jerks a thumb to the kitchen, "There's some coffee..."

She shakes her head. "What's the matter, Sonny?" she asks, groping him gently, a derisive, teasing smile on her lips.

"Hey," he says, pushing her hand away, "I'm just trying to be polite. You know, considerate...?"

She snorts, "Polite? Considerate? Since when??"

He protests, "Hey! I'm a nice guy."

"HA!" she barks, "Not with me!"

He blinks slowly and meets her eyes.

Aloud, he hears himself saying, with inexplicable harshness, "Fine, Carly. You want to 'get to it?' Well, hey, if that's what you want, let's go!" He unbuckles his belt and pulls his shirt out of his pants. He grabs her hand and places it in his crotch again. He rasps, "You ready?"

His abruptness catches her off guard and the room does not feel right. The sudden angry tension between them reminds her too much of the first time they were together.

The game was not fun then, and it's even less fun now.

She pulls herself away from him, emotionally and physically, not willing to follow through. She says warily, "Maybe I'd better go..."

"I thought this was what you wanted?" he counters, motioning a hand between his legs and moving toward her.

She stares hard at him.

Then she realizes what he is doing: simply throwing her actions back in her face. It is as if he is saying, Like how this feels??

She does not like it. Not at all. They have been there and done that. No need or desire - on either of their parts - to go back.

She lowers her eyes, the fear and tension dissipating, "All right, Sonny. You win. I get it, okay?"

He sniffs and slowly tucks his shirt back into his pants. He rubs a hand over his face, then stares at her. Finally, he calmly offers again, "You want some tira misu?"

She nods, "Sure."

***********

"All right, kid," he points his cigar in her direction, "here's my advice: Don't look over anybody's shoulder; keep your mouth shut; and stay away from those damn keg parties."

"Why? Are you afraid I'll see you there?" Carly retorts blandly.

Luke widens his eyes and replies innocently, "I'm just giving you some counsel. Free of charge."

"Okay, Luke," she shakes her head, laughing. "Thank you."

Carly has her scheduled road test in a few days, and, much more worrying for Carly, her classes start the next day.


She is nervous and Luke can tell. She just walked into work with a K-mart bag full of notebooks, pens, and pencils. And she keeps pulling out the crumpled sheet of paper that has her class schedule on it (Luke had peeked over her shoulder a couple of times).

She is so afraid. Afraid she will be the oldest person in the room - aside from the professor. Afraid that she will not be smart enough to catch on. Afraid that the others in her class will know who she is and stare at her.

She has nearly convinced herself to chuck the entire idea of going to college when her mind turns to Michael. Somehow, she knows she has to make a good life for herself. And for him. For the both of them. She does not want her son to grow up ashamed of her. She wants him to look at her and see a smart, capable, independent woman. She wants him to see that a person can learn from their mistakes if given a chance - if they take the opportunity.

She just hopes she can deliver.

**********

"It's all set," Benny reports, feeling good about something for the first time in a while.

Sonny nods, "When and where?"

Benny says, "Their representative would like to meet you for dinner at a restaurant of your choice two weeks from Friday."

Sonny screws up his face, "Dinner?"

The business manager shrugs, "I'm just the messenger, Sonny. That's what they told me. And I'm telling you."

Sonny sighs, "Okay, okay." He shakes his head and mutters, "Dinner...?"

Benny arches his brows and puts his hands out to his side in a 'what can ya do?' gesture.

********

"Hi there," Carly says drearily and dumps the bag of supplies on the dining room table.

"What's all that?" Sonny asks as he takes the last bite of his apple.

"My classes start tomorrow," she provides, then launches into a long, nonsensical tirade about dental conventions and how surprisingly little dentists tip.

He sifts through all of the garbage she is throwing at him and focusses on what he knows is really occupying her mind. He asks, "You nervous?"

Realizing avoidance will do no good, she confesses, "Yeah."

He takes a tentative step toward her. Tentative because this is the first time that he has actually, openly attempted to be a 'friend' to Carly. He puts his hands on her shoulders, looks into her eyes, and says, "This is a good thing you're doing, Carly."

She studies his face, looking for some sign of sarcasm or doubt. But she sees none. She only sees that he is perfectly serious. And the relief rushes through her unexpectedly. She visibly relaxes.

"You're right," she says, "I mean, I know you're right..."

He tells her, "This is just like getting into a swimming pool. You just gotta jump right in. Once you're all wet, you don't care too much about how cold the water is."

She smiles doubtfully at the analogy, "Okay..." She bites her lip and says in a quiet voice, "That's pretty good, Mr. Excitement."

His mouth curves upward and his hands slide to her arms. "I try."

"Well, you're certainly try-ing..." she deadpans.

He groans at her joke. Then he looks into her eyes and his smile begins to fade. His hands move to her face of their own accord and before he knows what he is doing, he is kissing her lips gently.

His mouth is still sticky from the apple and it lengthens their contact for just a split-second as they break away from each other, neither quite sure just where that kiss came from.

He coughs and moves to the other side of the table, knocking on the table with a knuckle and rubbing the back of his neck with his other hand. He fills his cheeks with air, then lets it out slowly. Discomfort in his voice, he mutters, "Well..."

She watches him with surprised eyes, her hand at her mouth, "Yeah...well..."

He has never kissed her that way before. He has kissed her. And she has kissed him. But those kisses had happened in the midst of building passion, in the middle of sex. Not the kind of out-of-the-blue, just-because kissing that just happened.

His eyes light up when he sees the forlorn apple core resting on the table. Escape! He picks the core up, holds it so she can see it, and announces, "I'll just go throw this away..."

She nods, not fooled at all, "Yeah, okay." She points to the kitchen, urging him on, "You go ahead and do that."

Despite Sonny's fervent hope, Carly is still there when he returns to the dining room. She is seated on the sofa, her back to him.

He takes a deep breath and clasps his hands together, deciding to ignore what just occurred, "So, what time is your first class?"

More than willing to let the kiss go too, Carly plays along. She groans and answers his question without turning around to look at him, "Early. 9:30!"

He scoffs at her, "You call that early?"

"It's early for me, okay?"

"Well," he says, approaching her slowly, his voice husky with promise, "I'll try not to keep you up too late."

She raises a brow and stands up, "Do you know what time it is?" She grins mischieviously, waiting for him to get close enough. Then she pulls him toward her by his belt, "So...since it's already too late, I was thinking about pulling an all-nighter."

"Oh..." he nods slowly, as if in understanding.

"Think you can help me out?"

He shrugs, "Sure," his breath warm against her skin.

She continues with phony concern, their lips brushing now, "I mean, I know you're no spring chicken or anything. I don't want to hurt you."

He laughs against her mouth, "I think I can manage..." He kisses her with a soft groan. Then he says flatly, "I have some viagra upstairs."

"Hmmm..." she moans thoughtfully, unable to stop smiling.

They both find that this smiling-thing is starting to happen a lot when they're together. And it is unfamiliar to them.

Carly is usually so filled with angst and fear about some secret coming to light, or some lie being uncovered, that she has never been able to simply enjoy herself. This is truly the first time in her life she has been free. And she has to admit that it feels pretty good.

On his part, Sonny finds this 'thing' with Carly both refreshing and frightening. He is not one to trust easily, especially given his recent experience. He does not actually trust Carly, but he has no nagging concern about her betraying him either. He has no need to worry because she knows nothing.

He slides his hands under her Luke's T-shirt and bra and finds her breasts with his fingertips. Her body is so familiar to him now, but it is still as if she is brand new. His body surges with lust when he touches her skin. Or when she touches his skin.

Or when they are just in the same room.

She fumbles with the buttons of his shirt, "Don't you ever wear sweaters, man?" she grumbles between breathless panting.

He says nothing, but helps her with his buttons until his shirt falls open. Her hands run along the expanse of his chest, down to his waist, to his stomach.

She stops suddenly and looks around the brightly-lit room, "You know what would be nice?"

He breathes, preoccupied with the side of her neck, "What?"

"Turn out the lights...maybe start a little fire...what do you think?"

"Start a fire?" he grimaces, thinking about the work it would take, the delay it would cause. He considers his options, then offers a compromise with a sigh, "How about I turn out the lights and light some candles instead?"

"Okay," she says, looking forlornly at the empty, lifeless fireplace.

He disappears into the kitchen and she takes a seat on the carpeted floor. He returns with a few tall, weighty candles in each hand. He places them on the dining room table, evenly spaced across the middle. Then he pulls a lighter out of his pocket and lights one of the candles, which he uses to light the rest.

Carly watches him and has to catch her breath. His actions are almost sensual as he moves to each candle, his shirt falling open to expose his skin. She thinks the only thing that would make the setting sexier would be a fur throw on the floor for them to roll around on. But she supposes the expensive carpeting will do.

[Please e-mail me for the unedited version of this chapter.:)]

He collapses to the side of her, an arm going beneath her shoulders and rolling her so that she is facing him on her side. He wipes some beads of perspiration from his forehead with the back of his other hand and says, "Man...."

She runs a finger along his jaw and says, "And we haven't even cracked open your viagra yet..."

He smiles lazily at her, tempted to kiss her again, but resisting.

They have connected. They both know it. Neither will acknowledge it, of course. Because, as much as they are enjoying living in the moment, they both are also deathly afraid of the unknown.

They like control.

This is their shared, their most devastating, weakness.

Carly lies and schemes to gain the illusion of control.

Sonny avoids and shuts down and lashes out to feel in control.

They both know that to acknowledge each other's place in their lives, to put a name to it, to discuss it, would probably spin them both out of control.